I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. His high brow was what caused all the ladies in town to covet him, it radiated intelligence but also something more primal. Kneebone and his Friends.
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